06/17/2014 09:15 am ET Updated Jun 17, 2014

What Terry Richardson Tells Me About The Grey Line Of Consent

Pascal Le Segretain via Getty Images

Years ago, a college friend set me up with one of his friends, on the suspicion that we would hit it off, and – more significantly – that this gentleman, being a nicer sort than my usual paramour, would be “good for me.” Within fifteen minutes of meeting my friend’s friend, I knew we were not destined for anything long term, but figured that – as the alcohol was free flowing and my apartment just next door – we might as well make a night of it. As it were.

After a few attempts at sex with a condom, seemingly rendered unsuccessful by that old demon whiskey dick, my gentleman caller made the unilateral decision to attempt some condom-free sex with me. To be blunt: without my permission, this nice friend of a friend jammed his unsheathed dick inside of me.

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